


My Dear Watson

by HumsHappily



Series: Requited [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, Epistolary, Farewell letter, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Letters, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6577816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes is leaving. Watson has already left. This is a goodbye in its purest form. A farewell from Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Dear Watson

**Author's Note:**

> Check the tags please.

_My Dear Watson,_

_It occurs to me as I sit to write this letter, that in an ever changing world, you were my one and only constant. A true friend, with both mettle and merit in equal spades. I hold you in the highest regard, so I beg of you, understand my meaning when I say we can no longer be companions._

_Surely you know of my own struggles with my emotional state, far closer now to hysterics than any man ought to be, than I have ever been. I see no shame in admitting that in order to write this missive I have consumed a great deal of cheap gin, and am now floating about in a pleasant, if sad, fog. You see my dear Watson, tomorrow you will marry. And I again will be alone. Do not worry for me. I have my pleasant memories, of times we spent together. The story of our adventures in Baskerville is a wonderful tale to tell at those useless social gatherings I am forced to attend. Or perhaps the time we spent in Sussex or Brighton. I will admit to the thoughts that plagued me on those trips. Growing into our golden years together, by the seaside or perhaps in a small cottage. I have always wished to own bees, and Sussex is known for its wildflowers. I have even heard that there is some English lavender being transplanted in order to- but, I digress, dear Watson, do forgive me. The written form it seems is still not free from my musings and wanderings, though I could scratch it out easily._

_In any case, I must persist, though I fear this letter shall never see the light of day. Not if you do not receive it before another. The bottle of gin mentioned before has made its way to my desk and there I sit, staring out at the bricks of London, door locked and lantern dimmed behind me. You see, Watson, I have been keeping a secret. It can no longer be hidden away, though were anyone to uncover such a thing, I would be sentenced to death, whether by my own hand or another. Would that it be the first if so, I’d at least have the amusement of making it interesting. The secret in any case, Watson, is not that I am a homosexual male, though that is indeed a large part of it, but instead that I am a homosexual male in love with another. Not another homosexual, but another, ‘normal’ man. Though, and here I fear the gin has made my hands unsteady, but you, my Watson, are nothing truly normal. You are, without a doubt, exceptional. I cannot think of a day that you were in my company when I did not exclaim your brilliance to the heavens. However, I also cannot think of a day when I did not pity what the human race had been brought to as you stated an opinion so obtuse as to nearly make it fact. Apologies, Watson, but then again, have you ever known me to be anything but straightforward? I can only hope that I grow docile in my old age, and let the augue that creeps into my bones soften me. Perhaps, that sickness of brain will come, and allow me and all that I have ever been to rot away, sending me back to a time when you were still located by my side and I was happy._

_I am not happy now, dear Watson and I am not sure whether I will ever be able to find happiness once more. You are leaving me. You are leaving Baker Street, and the life that we may have built together. And I cannot blame you. Your Mary is a loving woman, full of wit and humour. She will make an excellent doctor's wife, a role, that as a man, I would never have been able to fulfill._

_However, I cannot help but imagine what may have been. This I fear is my true secret. I am indeed a sentimental man. You see, Watson, good old Watson, you are one fixed point in a changing age. I am surrounded by marvels, by automobiles and steam engines. I see the new typewriters and I think how you would sound, tapping away at the keys one by one. I may miss the sound of your pen scratching away, but is that not the price of progress? The disappearance of all you hold dear. Forgive me, Watson, but I fear that my sentimental side is indeed showing once more. If it were just the gin, then perhaps all this would go away. But if it were just the gin, then my mind would be slowed, glacial in fact. But right now it speeds along, like a tradewind and I am drowning in the waves it creates. It’s too much._

_Baker Street is tiresome without you, despite Mrs. Hudson’s constant ever aging presence. She has gotten quite old, though her words and wit can still cut to the quick. The traffic grows more and more hectic, sometimes to the point that the old patterns have simply vanished. Have I gone mad, Watson? Or have the facts simply exceeded me? Am I now being succeeded by more than logic? I fear that even as I drown out such things, my violin cannot keep up and the sounds sneak in, and they drown me. You always did complain about my sleeping habits, and now, I fear they have grown far worse. I cannot find sleep at night. Not when it is the only time I can find some allotment of peace. Some measure of quiet, and still. I go out, and walk the streets of Regents, even though I’ve found that sometimes, I am still bothered by the noise and thoughts and lives of others. Those that sleep in the shadows of bushes, men like me who steal moments back against the trees, others whose muffled moans I hear that make my own cock take notice. If it is unforgivable that I speak of this to you, I ask anyway that you forgive me, for it is always you that such things bring to mind._

_To hurt is perhaps as human as to breathe, but I am only now understanding what it means to have a hurting heart. Because you, John Watson, are the only one whom has ever piqued this type of interest from me, despite my adventures with the woman._

_The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes, but I cannot deny that I am nearly glad that you never observed my interest in you, even at the cost of my own broken heart, for your rejection would not be one I could handle._

_And by the time you read this and see my affections for what they truly are, I will be gone and beyond any judgements you could levy. I will go now, and seal this letter so only you may know the truth. Write your name upon the outside in hopes that you will be the only one to receive it. I ask only that even if you do not approve, that you do not sully my name in the presses. It would be a pain to my memory to have my name marked as one of that as a pervert when all I have done, ever wanted to do is be as I am._

_I know that of anyone, you would understand. And I hoped that I could muster the courage to say such things to you in person, perhaps find some happiness. But instead, I’ve injected another solution into my veins, nothing you would approve of and nothing I’ve used before, only knowing that it will take the pain away._

_So, with all honesty, and with all my sincere apologies and regret, I must say goodbye. I will not be able to face your wedding. I will not be able to hear of the birth of your child, should you have one. I do hope you have the chance. Your brains and courage ought to be passed on._

_In any case, goodbye, my dear Watson. Know that every time it was said, it meant more than I could ever truly say._

_Yours always,_

_William Sherlock Scott Holmes_

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me [here](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> Any notification of errors are accepted with gratefulness that knows no bounds.  
> Kudos, comments, and your happy (pained) flailing are accepted with glee. I hope you enjoyed!  
> 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [My Dearest Holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582646) by [beltainefaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie)




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